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The Last Straw

by Flatfish 

Some called Harry Clarke a really nice guy, a gentle giant of a man who would do anything for his family. Others said he was under the thumb, a doormat for his wife and teenage daughter. But Harry was rapidly coming to the end of his tether. Harry was about to snap. 

It was a hot August weekend and Harry had been gardening. He sat down on a wooden bench and admired his handiwork. He looked up and was surprised to see his eighteen-year-old daughter, Julia, coming down the garden path. She was beautiful like her mother, with her thin summer dress emphasising her curves. Her blond hair was thick and long and blowing in the gentle breeze. But her pretty features were frowning and angry. She stormed up to her father and stood with her arms folded looking petulant and defensive. 

“It wasn’t my fault,” she said. “This stupid man slammed on his brakes and I ran into him. But it’s OK. I’m all right.” 

“What are you talking about?” asked Harry. 

“Your car,” said Julia. “There was an accident…” 

“You have been driving my car after I told you not to?” 

“We’ll yes… But I needed it. I…” 

“You have taken my car when I told you not to and you have crashed it!” Said Harry, relived that she was OK but rapidly getting angrier. 

“It wasn’t my fault,” Julia protested. “I only glanced at a shop window as I drove past and …” 

From the kitchen window, Amelia Clarke watched her husband and daughter arguing. She could see the discussion getting more heated. Julia was starting to shout. Suddenly Harry stood up. He took off his gardening gloves and angrily threw them on the ground. Julia took a step backwards but before she could get far Harry grabbed her by the arms and sitting down again he dragged the spoiled girl face down over his knee. 

“Oh my God,” said Amelia. She ran from the kitchen and down the garden path. 

“Harry! Harry! Stop that at once!” 

By the time Amelia reached Harry he was delivering a furious spanking to his wayward daughter. Julia was crying, kicking and pleading. 

“Harry! What do you think you are doing?” 

“Amelia,” said Harry, “don’t interfere or so help me you’ll be next.” 

Harry raised his hand again and smacked it down hard on his daughter’s bottom. Julia gave another tearful yelp. 

“No Dad! Please stop! I’m sorry!” 

Harry continued to spank his daughter, his hand loudly smacking against the thin material of her dress. Julia struggled and tried to protect her stinging bottom but Harry had tolerated his daughter’s bratty behaviour for years and she had finally pushed him too far. 

Amelia grabbed Julia by the arm and dragged her off Harry’s knee. Julia struggled to her feet, then giving Harry a quick tearful glance she fled up the garden path and into the house. Amelia watched her go then turned back to Harry, ready to give him a piece of her mind. 

Before she could speak, Harry stood up and grabbed her by the arm. 

“I warned you what would happen if you interfered,” said Harry, pulling Amelia towards the bench. 

“Don’t you dare!” screamed Amelia. “Harry this is beyond a joke. Let me go!” 

Harry sat down and pulled Amelia towards him. With a quick tug he flipped her over his knee. Amelia cried out in shock as she found herself facing the floor, her bottom uppermost. 

Amelia Clarke was a beautiful woman, a former model who had given up a promising career to raise her daughter. At forty-one she had a figure that would be the envy of many younger women. She dressed with elegance and moved with grace. Even now, positioned for a sound spanking, she maintained her dignity, kicking her feet and clenching her fists. Her immaculately tailored pencil skirt clung to her figure, silhouetting the round swell of her bottom and narrow waist. 

“Harry, if you do this I will never speak to you again. Now let…me…go!” 

“Amelia, you have been getting your own way for years. We used to be a team but now you can’t even support me when I discipline our daughter. Well things are going to change! You will not be laying down the law from now on.” 

Amelia struggled but could not free herself from Harry’s grip. “Is this what you call teamwork,” she hissed. 

“No. I call this payback!” said Harry, delivering a hard and painful slap to Amelia’s bottom. She cried out in anger and shock, but Harry continued to deliver a very sound spanking. Amelia struggle and fought but she could not free herself from the grip of her not so gentle giant. Years of pent-up anger surfaced as Harry dealt out his tirade of stinging smacks. Amelia’s bottom blazed under the relentless roasting. Finally Harry’s anger subsided and he rested his hand on her smouldering rump. Amelia struggled to her feet. Her face was scarlet with humiliation and rage and tears were forming in her eyes. 

“Harry Clarke! How dare you do that to me out here where all the neighbours can see!” 

Amelia turned and marched stiffly away down the garden path, determined that Harry would not have the satisfaction of seeing her rub her blazing bottom. 

Harry sat quietly on his bench, stunned by his own actions. He heard raised voices from inside the house followed by the slamming of the front door as Amelia and Julia left. Seconds later he heard his wife’s car pull out of the drive.

~~~

Harry showered, changed and poured himself a large sorrow drowning whisky. Dusk came and he sat alone in his empty darkening house, gazing at a family photograph, devastated at his actions; believing he had lost everything that was important to him. Headlights briefly illuminated the gloom as a car pulled into the driveway; a few seconds later Amelia walked back into the room. She wandered over to Harry and sat down beside him, placing a hand gently on his knee. Harry put his hand over hers. 

“I’m sorry Amelia. It was a moment of madness. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“No Harry. I’m the one who’s sorry. I don’t know what’s happened to us. I’ve been a real bitch. You were right to put your foot down. I wish you hadn’t done it in the garden though. The neighbours will be talking about it for weeks.” 

“I shouldn’t have spanked you,” said Harry. 

“Yes you should. In fact you should have done it long ago. And don’t think I didn’t notice how aroused you were.” 

“You’re a very sexy woman and you were writhing about over my knee.” 

“You know, you’re not the only one who found it exciting. I was angry and embarrassed but it was quite a turn on seeing you so masterful.” 

Amelia stood up. “Julia is staying at my Mum’s tonight so we have the place to ourselves.” She bent down and gently kissed Harry. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll be upstairs.” 

Harry finished his drink and moments later, headed for the bedroom. When he entered, Amelia had showered and was sat at her dressing table, wrapped in a white towel, brushing her hair. Harry sat on the bed and she came over and stood in front of him. Harry started to unbutton his shirt but Amelia stopped him and handed him the hairbrush. 

“Harry,” she said hesitantly. “I know I’ve been a really bad girl.” She let her towel fall to the floor and lowered herself, naked, face down over his knee. 

Harry was surprised but excited. He put down the hairbrush and ran his hand gently down his wife’s silky skin, starting at her neck, tracing her spine and over the beautiful swell of her bottom. Amelia trembled. Resting one hand on her waist, he raised the other over the tempting target. 

“How bad have you been?” 

“Very, very bad,” said Amelia quietly. 

Harry gave her a tentative smack on the right cheek. “That bad?” he asked. 

“Oh much worse than that. I have been really naughty.” 

Harry delivered another smack, harder this time, to the same spot. Amelia gave a little cry. Harry gave the left cheek a stinging smack then returned to the right. Smacking harder now, alternating between cheeks, he picked up the pace. Amelia started to yelp and squirm with each blow. With her eyes starting to fill with tears and her face flushed, Amelia looked back over her shoulder. 

“Owww! Harder Harry. Youch! Ahhh! Punish me Harry. Punish me really hard.” 

Harry picked up the hairbrush and rested its cool wooden back against Amelia’s stinging hot bottom. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth as she felt him raise the brush. A second later the pain exploded across her right cheek. 

“Ahhahaa,” she wailed. 

Harry raised the brush again and smacked it hard on her left cheek, noting the red marks that now appeared. Amelia started to cry and gripped Harry’s leg but she did nothing to stop the spanking. Harry put down the brush then reached around and cupped and squeezed Amelia’s breasts, noting the hardness of her nipples. He ran his hands around her waist and hips, then over the hot flesh of her bottom. Amelia parted her legs a little, allowing Harry to slip his hand between them, probing and stroking, feeling the wetness of her arousal. 

Picking up the hairbrush again, Harry took a firm grip on Amelia’s waist and started to spank her, hard! 

Amelia cried and raised her bottom to meet each stinging blow. She kicked her legs, curling them in an uncontrollable response to the incessant spanking as the pain rose to an unbearable crescendo. 

Harry continued to rain stinging smacks on Amelia’s blazing bottom, turning it a deep red. The harder and faster he spanked, the more franticly she responded. Suddenly she arched her back and gave a long, tear-filled cry of pleasure. Harry stopped spanking and Amelia sagged, sobbing over his knee. 

After a few moments she pushed her way to her feet, clutching her bottom. Harry stood up and started tearing off his cloths. Amelia helped, hastily unfastening his belt and dragging his jeans and boxers down to the floor. Taking hold of Harry’s rampant manhood, she knelt down and slipped her mouth around it, teasing with her tongue. Harry had never known such intense sexual ecstasy. Before Harry burst with pleasure, Amelia stood up and pushed him back onto the bed. Scrambling after him, she knelt astride him and with a moan of pleasure, lowered herself onto his manhood. Together they made love, wild, frantic and passionate.

 In the warm post coital glow, Harry lay on his back. Amelia lay face down beside him, her sore bottom cooling, her fingers gently stroking his chest. 

“What a day,” thought Harry. He had come so close to losing everything and now he had won back his wife and ended the day with the best sex he had ever known.

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